


A Night in Paris

by starknjarvis



Category: Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, Multi, Pegging, Seduction, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22123144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starknjarvis/pseuds/starknjarvis
Summary: When Bruce and Diana start dating, Clark can't help still yearning for them both.They notice.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Bruce Wayne, Diana (Wonder Woman)/Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 172





	A Night in Paris

When Bruce and Diana finally started dating, Clark’s first reaction was joy. It had been long years of Bruce carefully flirting, Diana making blatant suggestions, and Bruce slipping back into the shadows. The tension between them when their hands brushed could light John’s ring.

His second reaction was yearning. Not jealousy. Never that. But his body ached for both of them, and he wished he could have been a part of their slow dance. He didn’t want to take Diana from Bruce or Bruce from Diana, but he had imagined sometimes what it would be like to be a part of their inevitable collision.

The three of them were still inseparable in the field and as the leaders of the League, so he could tell when they finally got together even before they told him.

Their hands started to linger without a blushing separation. Diana’s calls came from Gotham. Bruce Wayne was seen jetsetting to Paris. Diana had finally told Clark while Bruce was busying himself elsewhere in the room, his expression stoic as Diana frankly recounted their relationship so far.

“I’m so happy for you both,” Clark enthused.

Diana gripped his hand, as firm and sure as ever.

During their first mission away from the planet after the two begin dating, the three of them were stranded in an alien desert. Clark wished it were the first time.

Instead, they get to work with the ease of practice. A fire under a shelter, a regular beacon sent to the League for rescue, Bruce harvesting tools and food from the undergrowth. This time, the jet was intact, if nonfunctional, so they had shelter and weapons nearby. It wasn’t until the sun set and the temperature dropped fifty degrees that the first difference became obvious. With the jet’s malfunction, it would have been dangerous to sleep inside, so they were risking the outdoors.

The jet had a selection of sleeping bags.

Normally, in cold scenarios where any of them (though mostly Bruce) risked hypothermia, they zipped two bags into one and slept together in a tangle of limbs. After their makeshift dinner, Clark stared at the row of sleeping bags for a long moment, feeling his face heat, and then picked up three.

He zipped two together and then set the two bags—one large, one small—beside each other on the ground.

Bruce came up beside him. He moved silently, but Clark could have picked out his heartbeat in a crowd of millions. “What’s this?” It was barely a question. His tone was as dry as the desert around them.

“Uh,” Clark said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought it would be awkward?”

“It’s going to reach below-freezing by midnight,” Bruce said.

“Cold doesn’t really…”

“You’re sleeping with us.”

Clark wished that his Kryptonian blood wasn’t so eager to rush to his cheeks. “I can’t. You two should stay together. I’ll be fine. Bruce, I swear. It’s fine.”

“Your core temperature is eight percent higher than Diana or I—are you willing to risk one of us developing hypothermia due to your misguided nobility?”

“What’s going on?” Diana asked, sliding into place beside Bruce. Clark wondered if she knew that she stood by Bruce’s side the same way she did on the battlefield, constantly aware of his stance.

“I was just…”

Bruce folded his arms.

“…putting the extra sleeping bag back into the jet,” Clark finished weakly. “Unless you want me to sleep separately?”

“Of course not,” Diana said. “Not in this weather. We should retire soon. Tomorrow we’ll need to walk to find a communications center.”

That night, Clark barely slept.

Diana was spooning Bruce’s other side, but her hand was stretched under Bruce’s neck to cushion Clark’s head, fingers tangled in his hair.

Bruce was pressed flush against him, sleeping with the unexpected ease he always did. If there was anyone Clark would expect to lose sleep on dangerous missions, it would have been Bruce—the man was notorious for staying up all night for either research or crime-fighting, after all. That habit had left him only with the ability to sleep whenever he needed to, no matter the threat level.

The fact he only chose to do so when Clark or Diana were nearby was something Clark kept close to his chest with pride. They were friends, and Bruce trusted him like few others.

That was why the erection Clark was pressing into the desert sand filled him with more shame than pleasure.

Bruce and Diana trusted him. He had to ignore how good Bruce felt loose and solid against him. How Diana’s fingers held him tightly. Clark could be the friend they needed, the shield in battle, the furnace to warm them in the night. He would not take anything from the night that they didn’t offer.

#

“Trouble sleeping?”

Bruce was an expert at reading people, and had trained too long as an interrogator to avoid questions just because he knew they were unwelcome. Clark gave him an exasperated look anyway. “We’re on an alien planet,” he reminded him. They were trekking toward the city Bruce calculated was nearby. The gravity on the planet was affecting his ability to fly, and as strong as Diana was, she could not comfortably carry them both and their gear.

“You were born on an alien planet.”

Clark used one hand to press his head toward one shoulder, the muscles tense and tight. His body was weaker on this planet, far from the yellow sun, and he finally understood the grumbles Lois used to make after a night slumped over her desk. “That doesn’t make me comfortable with all of them.” The argument that for Clark, Bruce and Diana were the aliens, had long-since been undercut. “I’m all right.”

“You’re uncomfortable with my relationship with Diana.”

“What? No,” Clark said. He glanced up at Diana, who was hovering overhead to make sure they weren’t walking into a trap. “I’m not, Bruce. I swear. I’m happy for you,” he insisted quietly.

Bruce just hummed.

“Honestly, Bruce. I would never… I’d never begrudge you guys this.” His voice cracked slightly, and Bruce gave him a thoughtful look. It made Clark nervous to be under that scrutiny. There wasn’t much about himself he’d be afraid of Bruce’s sharp eyes seeing, but this is one of them. “I…” His denial fell short when Bruce just raised his eyebrows. He had taken off his cowl in deference to the sun beating down on their heads, but Clark would have known the gesture even under the mask. It was challenging, knowing.

Bruce nodded. “When we’re safe, we’re talking about this.”

Clark’s body flushed cold, despite the heat in the air. Bruce knew. He knew why Clark hadn’t been able to sleep, knew the arousal that had kept him up until exhaustion had broken through. Clark swallowed. “Sure, Bruce. Let’s get safe first.”

Bruce watched him for another long moment, tracking his face, then down his body, then back up. Finally, he gave a brief nod, and they continued forward again.

#

Clark began to think that Bruce had forgotten his threat—promise?—that they would talk about they escaped the endless alien desert. The mission got worse before it got better, and they had been lucky to make it out. They seemed to live in close calls. When they’d gotten back to the Watchtower, Diana had practically carried a reluctant Bruce to the medical bay for rehydration and wound care.

Once Bruce was healed, things seemed to go back to normal.

Then, a week later, Clark realized that Bruce had only been biding his time. God forbid Bruce approach any situation without a full battle plan.

They had finished a meeting with the entire League upstairs, debating patrol schedules and the appropriate reaction to a mild tsunami in New Zealand. Everyone but Flash and J’onn, who were on monitor duty, had already taken the zeta back planetside. Diana had held Clark back with an innocuous question, and it wasn’t until he and Diana joined Bruce at the zeta that he realized he had been shepherded there.

They had not all been alone together since their return to Earth, by design. From the flat, assessing look on Bruce’s face, this was no coincidence.

Clark smiled at Bruce as brightly as his ma did when Mrs. Thomas came over to complain about the flaked paint on the Kent mailbox. “Good meeting,” he said. He moved to go around Bruce.

Bruce stepped in his path. “Flash needs to learn not to derail the conversation,” he said. “Where are you going?”

“Home?” Clark said, thrown off. “Metropolis. I have an assignment from Perry to finish.”

“If it were urgent, you would have finished it before the meeting,” Bruce pointed out. “Or hurried Flash along.” His tone was triumphant, the way it was when he’d backed an opponent into a corner.

Clark hesitated, looking between the two of them. “I never said it was urgent.”

“Excellent,” Diana said. “Then you can come to Paris with us.”

“Paris?”

“We want to talk somewhere private,” Bruce told him. “Diana’s apartment is less busy than the Manor.”

Clark thought about the swarm of children living in Bruce’s house and winced. He could only imagine how they would react if they overheard the awkward conversation coming. Most of them wouldn’t do more than wince on his behalf, but if Jason was in residence, Clark would probably be mocked for the next few years. “Paris works,” he said.

Bruce nodded and keyed in the destination for the zeta tubes. Diana put a hand on Clark’s arm, and he flinched. She stepped closer so that her breast brushed against his bicep. He swallowed. “No need to look as though you’re heading to an execution,” she told him quietly. He blinked at her, and she smiled. “Don’t you trust us?”

“Of course,” Clark said, baffled.

“Good.” Diana rubbed his arm again. “Let’s go.”

#

Diana’s apartment was a minimalistic beauty. Both Bruce and Clark lived with clutter, the debris of research and memories spread around them. Bruce, with the Robins in the Manor, was fighting an uphill battle, but the bachelor life Clark lived after his breakup with Lois three years ago was no better.

The apartment was in the heart of Paris, with a view of the Eiffel Tower framed by her balcony window. The tower had been rebuilt four times since the alien attack that had first brought the League together. It was in a rare period of full reconstruction now, so the frame of its lights against the night sky was as perfect as a clip from an old film.

“Would you like a drink?” Diana offered, slipping off her boots and going into the kitchen. Bruce slipped away, so Clark followed her inside. She held up a bottle of red wine for his approval. “Just a glass.”

“No, thank you,” he said. When she waited, he added, “Water is fine.”

She shrugged and poured two glasses. “One is for Bruce,” she said when he frowned at her. “This is his Bordeaux.” Wine poured, she pulled a larger glass from a cabinet and poured in water from a filter in her fridge, and then plucked out a sliver of lemon from a bowl to garnish it.

Clark picked up the glass and fiddled with the lemon slice. “Thank you, Diana.” He stared down at the bright sliver of yellow. It smelled like the rest of the apartment, clean and fresh.

“I told Bruce that treating this like a battle would only make you nervous,” she said suddenly, putting down her wine glass.

“I’m sorry,” Clark said. What had Bruce told her? He had expected Bruce to rumble at him about respecting his teammate’s privacy, or staying away from temptation if Clark couldn’t keep his eyes to himself. Clark hadn’t expected him to bring Diana into it, though he should have known better. Bruce had not stopped respecting Diana as an ally now they were sleeping together.

“You should be,” Diana said. She stepped closer. Clark didn’t realize he was stepping back until the edge of her granite countertop met his back. “You’ve been keeping secrets.” Clark took a breath to apologize again, and Diana expounded, “Underestimating yourself. And us.”

“I—What?”

“Clark,” she said. For a woman with iron in her spine, she could be unbearably gentle. She put a hand against his cheek, brushing a thumb over his skin. “You didn’t think you could talk to us?”

“I… Diana,” he said. He couldn’t find anything else to say.

“Men,” she said. “You don’t always have to sacrifice yourself for other people. Sometimes you can have what you want.”

And then she was kissing him.

Her lips were soft, so soft. The hand on his cheek moved to his hair and twisted around his curls, pulling him in closer. He went easily, unable to do anything else with her tongue sweeping across his lips and the scent of her in his nose.

She stepped forward so her breasts were pressing against his chest. They were both still in costume, and the armor of her breastplate was cold and hard. He wanted desperately to feel her skin. Her hands were calloused—was the rest of her body hard as well, or were there soft places?

She tilted his head with the hand in his hair, changing the angle, and then trailed her lips down to bite his neck. Hard. The sound he made could only be called a whimper. She immediately laved the spot with her tongue, soothing it though she could leave no bruise.

“I had a plan,” Bruce said from the doorway. He had changed into civilian clothes—a soft gray sweater and dark pants.

“Bruce!” Clark said, pulling back guiltily, though Bruce did not seem upset to find Clark kissing his girlfriend. Diana kept a hand in his hair, not letting him move far.

“You always do,” Diana pointed out. “You were scaring him. I came up with a new plan.”

“I was easing him into it,” Bruce contradicted. He was walking closer as he spoke, and didn’t stop until he was pressed close beside them. He leaned forward and captured Diana’s lips quickly. With an up-close view, Clark watched the way their mouths moved together, familiar and intimate. He swallowed.

Bruce pulled away from Diana. “You do get objectives completed,” he said. He looked at Clark. “Have you caught up?”

“Uh… No,” Clark said. “I’m…”

“We make a good trio,” Bruce said with the type of smile he gave on the cover of tabloids. It was bold and flirtacious, bright white teeth and kiss-reddened lips. “No reason to limit ourselves to a duo now.”

“Are you asking for…a threesome?” Clark should have seen where this was going, but he had whiplash from his original expectations.

“Whatever you want,” Diana said. “A relationship, sex—we both love you, and want you to be with us. You’re better at hiding your feelings than either of us expected.” She narrowed her eyes at him, fierce as ever. “You’ll need to be honest now.”

“I don’t know,” Clark said. “I never thought this was a possibility.”

“Kansas,” Bruce told Diana, as though that were an explanation. “You don’t need to decide now. Why not give it a trial run? You have nowhere else to be.”

“If you’re interested,” Diana added, though it felt perfunctory. Both of them were looking at Clark expectantly, lust heavy in their eyes. Neither of them was braced for rejection, as Clark would have been proposing a threesome with his best friends. Clearly, whatever Bruce had seen in the desert that night had given him utter confidence in his plan.

Bruce had always been the best at reading people.

“You want to have a threesome. Right now,” Clark clarified.

“I do,” Bruce said, and Diana nodded solemnly.

Carefully, carefully, Clark leaned forward and kissed Bruce. Bruce let him keep control, reacting to the touch easily. Diana’s hand, still in Clark’s hair, tugged in approval, and Clark deepened the kiss.

When they pulled apart, Clark said, “It didn’t seem fair. Only Diana had kissed me so far.”

“Fairness isn’t a part of this,” Bruce said. “But I do appreciate the effort. Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” Clark breathed, and then Bruce was kissing him again. This time, he surged forward like he was leading an army, sending Clark back into the counter again. Like Diana, he was shorter than Clark, but he did not hesitate in pulling Clark down to meet him.

“Let’s move this somewhere we can all get a hand on him,” Diana said, though she had one hand still guiding his head as though tangled in the curls and her other was stroking Bruce’s back.

The trip to the bedroom passed in a haze of kisses and hands. Diana swapped in for Bruce halfway through the stumbling journey. After tripping for the second time while blinded by the mouth on his own, Clark lifted slightly off the ground.

The bed in Diana’s room was as pristine and magnificent as the rest of the apartment, a sprawling bed covered in a plush white comforter. It must have been king-sized, though Clark had never owned anything larger than a full and wasn’t positive.

Diana pushed Clark onto the bed and climbed up to straddle him. She leaned down to kiss his throat, and said, “I had an idea, when we were planning this.”

Clark hummed in question, since words had fled his mind.

“You’re shy, Clark. You always have been, no matter which costume you’re in.” She traced a finger over the symbol on his chest. “I thought of something that might make it easier to be honest with us. But you would need to trust us.” Carefully, she unhooked the lasso from her waist.

“Ever been tied up?” Bruce asked. He was stripping methodically, and Clark felt robbed that he had not noticed before. The recently acquired sweater was already on the floor, revealing a scarred chest, and the slacks soon followed. Bruce was, of course, a black boxer-briefs man.

“On occasion,” Clark said, mouth very dry.

“By someone who wasn’t trying to interrogate or murder you?” Diana asked. The way she stroked the lasso was obscene.

“No,” Clark admitted.

“Would you like to try it?” She held up a hand. “We want to make you feel good. It’s not to restrain you—it’s to free you. It’s…more effective than you might think.”

“Have you…?” He looked between the two of them.

“Bruce looks beautiful in my rope,” Diana said.

Bruce didn’t flinch. “It’s not unpleasant. And I’m sure you trust that we would free you the moment you asked. And, as it’s her lasso, you would be honest when that was.”

Tied up. Spread out on the those sheets, tied down by Diana’s lasso. Compelled by Hera to tell the truth. Clark could break through the lasso. Probably. He had tested his limits with most of the Leaguers’ main weapons, but neither he nor Diana had been willing to risk him destroying her lasso. Did he trust they would let him free? Of course.

And he couldn’t deny the thrill heating his gut at the idea of being at the mercy of these two. He trusted them implicitly, on the battlefield and off. He didn’t know how to reach out and take what he wanted from them here in the bedroom. Letting them lead instead would save him from asking too much.

“Is this a test?” he asked, unable to voice that. “Should I ask you both to confirm your identities?”

“Clever,” Bruce said. “Good instinct. You should never volunteer to make yourself vulnerable unless you’re certain. If we weren’t truly Bruce and Diana, though, the rope would be just that—rope.”

“You don’t need to turn everything into a lesson,” Diana told Bruce.

“Oh, but isn’t that what today is for?” Bruce’s smirk was filthy. “I thought we were going to show our friend Clark all sorts of things.”

Clark whimpered.

“You don’t have to agree to the lasso for this to happen,” Bruce told him. “But I think it’s a good idea.”

“If you both do… We could try it.”

“Strip and lie down. Make it quick.”

Clark was used to obeying Bruce’s orders—they were always given with a good reason. Despite his nerves, Clark sped through removing his uniform and then spreading onto the sheets. The speed helped his tension. There was no slow, awkward clamoring onto the bed. In one instant, he had gone from clothed and standing to naked and sprawled.

He started to pull his limbs in closer, but Diana had already moved to secure his right wrist. Her fingers were firm, but soft. The lasso felt like static against his skin, prickling his forearm and wrist as Diana tied a complex knot.

“Are they loose enough?” she asked.

He tugged against the restraints lightly. They held. “They’re fine.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Terrified.” Instead of meeting her eyes, he glanced back toward one of his wrists, where the lasso glowed faintly.

“Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes, please.”

“Well, then,” Diana said, smiling down at him. “I like you like this. You’re beautiful. I could stare at you all day. I have, in the past. I’m surprised you never noticed. I do not hide my interest.”

“I noticed it, when it was Bruce you were looking at,” Clark said.

Diana hummed. “I shall have to be more obvious.” She unbuckled her armor, slipping off one piece at a time. It was methodical, serious, but Clark’s breath still caught as her forearms were revealed when her bracers came off. “Bruce?” she said, beckoning him forward.

Bruce had been standing nude and calm in the corner, watching while Diana had tied Clark up. Even without the mask, his face was hard to read, but his eyes missed nothing. He stepped forward and undid the clasp on her chest piece. Diana could have done it herself, of course. It would have been poor armor if she had been trapped inside. This was for Clark, and—from the heat in his eyes—Bruce. Bruce slowly stripped Diana, leaving her moon-glow skin on display.

They kissed again, hot and thorough. Bruce’s hands ran down the length of her back, cupping her ass. Diana, as she had done with Clark, used a grip in his hair to help control the kiss. She treated hair like reins, a leader in and out of the bedroom.

Clark must have made a noise, because they broke apart at the same moment, turning to him. Bruce’s smirk was devastating. “He does look good like that.”

“What should we do with him first? Clark, what do you want?”

“You. Both of you,” Clark said.

“He hasn’t had as much time to think about this as we have,” Bruce pointed out. “Diana, you were talking about how much you love his mouth. How was the kiss?”

“You know how good it was,” she said. Her eyes were heavy-lidded as she looked at Clark splayed in front of her.

They weren’t even touching him, just talking about him and his naked body. His heart was thudding in his ears. Down the bed, his cock was growing slowly thicker.

Diana stepped closer to Clark, running a light hand up his ribs. The touch was gentle enough to nearly tickle, and his skin ached for more. “Why don’t we take time to warm up? Treat this like a training session. How do you feel about cunnilingus, Clark?”

“Uh, pro,” Clark said, eyes immediately falling to the thatch of dark hair between her legs. He had been focusing on their faces—and occasionally dipping to their chests—but had tried not to peek lower. It was hard to believe still that he was allowed to be here. Allowed to look. Allowed to touch. If he wasn’t bolder, he might miss this chance that was being handed to him. “I want to. Let me.”

Suddenly, he was grateful for the lasso. Instead of prodding to be sure he was being honest, Diana trusted him at his word. She climbed on the bed, sliding up the side of his body. She licked and kissed from his belly button to his jaw, and then drew him into another kiss. They kissed for so long Clark was worried she had changed her mind, but then she pulled back and straddled his chest.

“You know how to tap out,” she said.

He snapped once. If he were really tapping out, he would snap three times. With their ambitious sparring, it was not unusual for one of them to be unable to even tap the other person’s leg in the usual move.

She nodded and scooted closer. The heat of her pussy dragged against his chest, already slick. The anticipation must have been affecting her too. She settled over him, knees pressing into his spread biceps. As expected, her hand went immediately to tangle in his hair. He considered commenting on it, but not when her pussy was nudging closer. He had better things to do with his mouth.

He had not dated often in his youth. In Smallville, attempting to keep his powers a secret and helping on the farm had taken up most of his time, even if he had figured out how to woo a girl. Lois had, in many ways, been similar to Diana. The first time they had gone to bed together, she had let Clark lead. The second, she had pushed him down and ridden his face until she was a shaking mess. He had liked that version of Lois better—passivity was not her approach to life.

Diana, it seemed, took the same approach. As soon as Clark began tracing his tongue along Diana’s core, she groaned and pressed down into his touch. She was slick and warm. He knew her scent as well as his own, and here it was only stronger, sharper.

He started slowly, nudging and licking gently. Her hand in his hair suggested she wanted more, but he was finally between her thighs and wouldn’t let the opportunity pass. He stayed away from her clit, kissing her lower lips with firm, steady movements.

“Clark,” she panted. “I thought Bruce was the tease.”

Bruce hummed. He was closer than Clark had realized. As though realizing his position had been given away, Bruce’s broad hand landed on Clark’s bare foot. He had thought nothing could distract him from Diana panting and bucking on his face, but half of his attention immediately centered on the thumb slowly stroking over his ankle. Other than Diana and the ropes on his arms, his body was bare and untouched. The light grip on his foot made him hyper-aware of that expanse of uncovered skin.

Bruce slowly moved his hand upward, resting on Clark’s calf.

Tease was right.

Clark moved up to brush his lips once, twice, against the bud of Diana’s clit. It throbbed under his mouth.

She gasped. “Clark. Please.”

He pressed in more firmly, laving it with broad strokes and then narrowing down into tight, pointed licks. Diana’s hands in his hair would have been painful if he had been human. She held his curls like reins, encouraging him to keep going.

Bruce’s hand went to Clark’s knee. His other hand came into play unexpectedly, brushing with a flat palm down the length of Clark’s cock.

Clark jolted, and Diana’s moaned at the sudden change of pressure. “Do that again, Bruce,” she said, clearly aware of the cause of Clark’s movement.

Bruce just hummed again. His hand on Clark’s knee moved to knead his thigh in a steady rhythm. It was the same speed of Clark’s licks and kisses on Diana’s pussy. With Diana sitting on his face, Bruce would not be able to see Clark’s tongue. He must have been listening to the sounds, or watching Diana’s reactions.

The idea of Bruce’s eagle eyes on them while Clark ate out Diana made him shudder. What was Bruce able to see? How hard was Clark now just from the feel of Diana against his lips? Bruce would know how much this was affecting him.

Just when Clark was sure Bruce would ignore Diana’s suggestion, his hand descended on Clark’s cock again. He stroked it slowly, making Clark regret teasing Diana. Bruce’s hand was confident as ever. Had Bruce done this before with another man? Clark hadn’t thought to wonder. Was this from experience, or part of Bruce’s ability to adapt to any situation?

A steady but gentle hand nudged Clark’s thighs wider, and he spread them wide. “Look at you,” Bruce murmured.

Clark whimpered and pushed his confusion of self-consciousness and blinding arousal into fucking Diana with his mouth. He wished he could touch her, get his fingers inside to feel her pulse, but his hands were still tied tight.

A finger traced down Clark’s balls and back to his ass, brushing lightly against his hole. Clark jerked again, making Diana moan. He had Wonder Woman riding his face. How was Bruce able to so thoroughly distract him with light touches? The combination of unexpected jolts of pleasure from below and the steady, slick rhythm of Diana above him had Clark out of his mind with pleasure.

The finger returned a moment later slick with lube. Bruce breached him without fanfare. Normally, Clark needed more attention on his cock before he could be fucked, but he was so turned on that Bruce was able to slip his finger easily inside.

Bruce wasn’t finished surprising him. Just when Clark thought he knew what was happening, a hot, warm mouth descended on his cock.

“Jesus,” Clark tried to say, though the word was lost against Diana’s heat. She was rocking faster now, chasing her pleasure on his mouth. He desperately wanted to focus on fucking into Bruce’s mouth, but an iron grip over his hips dissuaded him from moving. Instead, he focused on making Diana come. Now. He couldn’t stand being split like this, and refused to fail to pleasure Diana during their first time.

“Oh,” Diana breathed when Clark overcame his distraction and fucked her relentlessly with his tongue. She pressed down on his face harder. A human would have needed to tap out for air, but Clark kept going, drowning in the sensations. Diana held his hair tightly as she bucked against his face. He could feel her pulse against his mouth, and then flutter with her orgasm.

He licked her through it, realizing he was mimicking the long strokes of Bruce’s mouth on his cock. As Clark slowed down, letting Diana breathe, Bruce’s attentions ratcheted up.

When Diana finally lifted and moved from Clark’s face, Bruce was fucking him with two fingers and had his cock halfway down his throat.

“You are,” Diana said, tracing a finger over Clark’s swollen lips, “beautiful.”

“Diana,” he gasped.

“You were so good at pleasing me. And now you’re being so good for Bruce. Do you like this?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes. I love it.”

Bruce hummed around his cock. The self-satisfied noise vibrated through his body. He was careful not to break Bruce’s hold and buck his hips, no matter how much he wanted to. Bruce wanted him to keep his hips pressed to the bed, so Clark would. He could hurt Bruce in so many ways, and refused to let that happen. Choosing to lay still made every sensation feel a dozen times more intense. Clark could do nothing but take what Bruce was giving him.

“Do you like being fucked?” Bruce asked, pulling away from Clark’s cock.

“I’ve never done it before,” he admitted, face flushing even redder. Taking off his glasses and pulling a stranger into bed would have been an idiotic way to give away his secret identity. The only people he had ever had more than fumbling hook-ups with had been Lana, in high school, and Lois.

“Would you _like_ to be fucked?” Bruce’s cock was hard between his legs, but he had not given it a moment’s attention. It seemed Bruce had laser focus even in the bedroom, and now that focus was on Clark.

“Please,” Clark said.

Bruce chuckled. Diana draped herself against Clark’s side, her breasts pressing into his bicep. “Good choice,” she told him, sated laziness replaced with mischief. “He’s excellent. I’ve wanted to see this for a long time.” She stretched against him. “May I see it from up close?”

“Of course you can stay,” Clark said. He twisted to kiss the top of her head with difficulty, still tied to the headboard.

“That’s not what I meant,” Diana said, watching Bruce closely. “Bruce?”

“I never thought you’d be satisfied with watching,” he told her. “Go ahead and get it.”

Diana slithered off the bed and padded out of sight. “Get what?” Clark asked.

Bruce just hummed. He had stopped sucking Clark off with as much enthusiasm, slowing to an almost painful rhythm. He twisted his hand around the head, nearly casual. Clark hissed through his teeth. He clenched around the two still fingers in his ass. “Bruce,” he pleaded.

“Do Kryptonians have a shorter refractory period than humans?” Bruce asked. It was his detective voice, thoughtful and calculating.

He wanted to boast about some alien ability to orgasm ten times in a night, but he was bound tightly in Diana’s lasso. “Not since I was in college,” Clark admitted.

“Then you can wait,” Bruce told him.

“Bruce,” Clark protested.

Bruce leaned up to plant a kiss on Clark’s stomach. It would have been a sweet gesture, but Clark was so over-sensitized that it felt like the touch of a live wire.

“Trust me. This will be worth it,” Bruce assured him. He ran a hand slowly up Clark’s thigh, just until his fingers grazed Clark’s balls, and then moved away again.

Clark closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the teasing, breathing sharply through his nose. He stayed tense, trying not to writhe, until he heard Diana approaching the bed again.

“Oh my God,” Clark said when she came back into view. A slender red strap-on jutted from the supple leather harness around her waist. She wore it like her armor, confident and powerful. Her face was still flushed from orgasm, her hair a mass of curls cascading over her shoulders, nearly brushing her nipples.

Diana ran a hand up and down the dildo, slender fingers sure. “I left behind my original set when I had to depart Themiscyra. I was not convinced about the silicon—we used metal there—but Bruce insisted. The texture is pleasant, once one gets accustomed.” She arched her back, closing her eyes. “There’s a second piece inside me. It’s programmed to move with me. So, in the end, I suppose I hold all three of our pleasures in my hands.” She smirked at them. “Luckily, I’m very good at this.”

She settled in behind Bruce—thank God for the size of her bed—and he passed her the lube. When she slicked her fingers and disappeared behind him, Clark was suddenly relieved Bruce had stopped fucking him. Seeing the expression on Bruce’s face as she stretched him was enough to make every nerve in Clark’s body light up. Pleasure creased Bruce’s brow, and his mouth parted slightly. His eyes drifted shut.

“What are you doing?” Clark asked, voice hoarse.

Diana knew what he was asking. “I have two fingers inside of him,” she reported. “He’s good at relaxing for me. And he likes to watch.” She reached around and ran a hand down Bruce’s hard cock, making it twitch. “He won’t take long to prepare.”

Bruce hummed, pressing an absent kiss to Clark’s stomach to hide his face. His breath was hot against Clark’s skin.

“I want to do that. Someday,” Clark said.

Bruce looked up at him, eyes hooded and face flushed. “I have a list. We’ll get there.” He swallowed then and pressed back against Diana.

“Start on Clark again,” Diana instructed. “I want us together on this.”

Bruce’s fingers finally began moving again, and the banked fires roared to life through Clark’s body. His hands were magic. From the microexpressions chasing across his face, it felt as though he was matching Diana’s rhythm.

“Please,” Clark said. He felt as though he would burst.

“You can wait,” Diana told him.

Clark gritted his teeth and tried to obey.

He didn’t know how much time passed before Clark felt Bruce’s fingers pull free. He opened his eyes to see Bruce and Diana readjusting. Bruce’s thick cock pressed against his entrance for one breath-stealing moment. Then, together, as they did everything, Bruce and Diana pushed home.

Bruce stretched Clark open slowly. Clark had done this before—once, regrettably, as a teen with Lex, and then many more times with Lois, who had loved pegging. But Bruce was so Bruce about it. Mechanical, skilled, relentless. Warm, human.

Clark arched against the mattress, trying to lure him into speeding up, but Bruce quelled him with a hand on his hip. He and Diana stayed in perfect rhythm, building slowly and inexorably toward a frenzy.

Clark forced himself to relax and just…take it. Unexpectedly, it only made his pleasure quadruple. He was the strongest person in the room, but he had let them tie him down, spread him open, _use_ him. He was in their mercy, and they were taking beautiful care of him.

Bruce was finally beginning to react to Diana’s dildo, groaning low in his throat. Sweat glazed all the skin Clark could see, dampening his dark hair.

“Both of my boys,” Diana crooned. “You’re so beautiful. Clark, can you feel him trembling? Kiss him, Bruce. Kiss him while we come. I want to watch.”

Bruce lunged forward to capture Clark’s lips, devouring him. Clark kissed him back desperately. He kept the rest of his body still, but he nipped and licked and opened his mouth to Bruce.

There was a tension in the air as their breathing quickened. All three were just on the edge of losing control.

“Faster. Harder,” Diana ordered, and they both sped up.

Clark was panting into Bruce’s mouth, teetering toward ecstasy. It was just there. If he wanted he could fall now, but he held back. He needed to see this through. He had to.

“Come for me. Both of you, now,” Diana said. She put a hand in Bruce’s hair, and reached the other down to Clark’s thigh. The sudden touch was electrifying, nearly as world-shattering as the look on Bruce’s face as she tugged his hair.

And Clark was lost. Pleasure crested through him, rushing through his body like a wave. It lit him up from head to toe. He was the sun. He twisted under the assault, but the ropes at his wrists held fast. He was free and secure at once.

Bruce’s cock was pulsing inside him as he came, and the look on his face as he lost his perfect mask was glorious. Diana had sunk her teeth into Bruce’s shoulder at some point, and her thick, dark hair poured over to brush against Clark’s chest. She was moaning through the bite, fierce and loud.

Clark watched them both slowly still, collapsing so that the weight of both bodies pressed him into the mattress. Diana pulled back to kiss the spot she’d bitten, and then rolled to the side. She pulled the harness from her waist, shuddering with an aftershock as the second dildo slid from inside her. She tossed the contraption to the floor with a clatter and slid in to kiss Clark’s lips.

Bruce, resting with his head on Clark’s chest, hummed. “Do you want another round, Diana?” he asked. He was lax against Clark, but Clark had no doubt the other man would find energy from somewhere if Diana was not yet satisfied.

“We’ll have time for that later,” Diana said. She pushed up and then unwound the ropes from Clark’s wrists. Despite how hard he had tugged against them, his skin was neither blemished nor sore. He regretted it, slightly. It would have been nice to have a souvenir.

“You’re astounding,” Bruce said, tilting his head.

Diana kissed him gently, and brushed a fallen piece of hair from his forehead. “I told you my plan was better than yours.”

“Mine would have worked, too.”

She laughed and sprawled beside them, insinuating her arms and legs between and around them so they were in a tangled pile. “We’d still be talking in the kitchen. You have to admit this is the better option.”

“I’m with Diana,” Clark said.

Bruce grunted, but dropped a swift, almost too swift to be noticed, kiss onto Clark’s chest. “It was more effective,” he admitted.

“Next time we do this, you can come up with the itinerary,” Diana told him. She had the wild, fierce grin she wore after a successful battle, energized and triumphant.

“I know you’re making fun of me, but I will. I’ll have a timetable. There might even be a stopwatch,” Bruce said, lazily teasing. In contrast to Diana, he was entirely relaxed. It was rare to see him so content outside the Manor. He might have been about to fall asleep.

 _Next time_. Clark tried to hide his smile, turning his head to nuzzle Diana’s hair. It was soft as silk.

For a next time, he’d go along with any plan they liked.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](http://starknjarvis27.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
